


Earth from Earth

by honeyhoneybee



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Earth, Emotional Hurt, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Light Angst, Luther is a softie, Luther writes poetry and its canon, Poetry, Sappy, no beta we die like ben
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-21
Updated: 2019-07-21
Packaged: 2020-07-09 17:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19891432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeyhoneybee/pseuds/honeyhoneybee
Summary: "Everything looks so much clearer down here."Luther writes a collection of poems about the third rock from the sun once he gets back home.Based on the canon poems he wrote and sent to Reggie when he was on the moon. I just wanted to create some nice, non-triggering or depressing content for my favorite gentle giant. <3





	1. Earth from Earth

**Author's Note:**

> I'm writing them all pretty quickly and not editing them too much because I don't think Luther puts much thought into his poetry, since he doesn't plan for anyone to read it. I also want to get these out there pretty quickly because I take so long on my fictional stories and I thought this would be a nice change.

#### Earth from Earth

Everything looks so much clearer down here.

Up there, it was just beautiful.

Down here, it’s a little bit messy.

It's harder to look at. Harder to understand.

But I’m trying to find the beauty in the madness.

I’m trying to love Earth from Earth.


	2. Chapter 2

****

#### Umbrella

I forgot to bring an umbrella to Dad’s funeral. Irony at its finest.

A line of umbrellas and my head sticking out above them, out of place.

Cold and naked.

Exposed and out in the open for everyone to see.

My clothes were sticking to my skin and I felt so cold. Like I was on the moon again, but wetter.

Still alone, even when we were all finally together.

Rain means umbrellas opening up in unison. If you remember to bring one.

If you remember you have one buried deep down somewhere in the dusty old closet of your childhood bedroom.

No one noticed I didn’t have an umbrella. But I didn’t notice everyone else had them.

I caught a cold a week later. First time in years. 

Everyone said it was because I forgot my umbrella, but Diego forgot his too, and he was fine.  


No fair.

My immune system is all out of whack, something else I’ll have to get used to.

Ally brought me soup, Klaus made me hot chocolate, and Vanya played for me.

Rain means umbrellas opening up in unison.

But if you forget yours, you might not have to run inside to get it. You might not have to dig through your closet all alone.

Because if you just look a little to the side, you might find someone there.

Holding their umbrella high above your head.

And if you let them, they might pull you in close to them and shield you from the rain.

  


****

#### Rain

Maybe I only forgot about umbrellas because I forgot about the rain.

I forgot about the feeling of water droplets on my skin, unexpected but calming nonetheless. The way it sticks to my hair. 

The feeling when the air is thick with humidity, feeling hot and cold all at once like a fever but without the chills.

Holding my hand out to feel it tickling my palm.

Trudging through the mud on the ground, feeling it squish under my boots. Chuckling to myself at the noises it makes.

Treading lightly to avoid the worms, remembering how Vanya used to cry when we stepped on them.

And when no one is looking, jumping in puddles.

Reminding myself it’s okay to take pleasure in the lighter moments. We have so few of them nowadays. 

Reminding myself the world won’t end (again) if I take a second to stand in the rain with my eyes closed. 

  


****

#### After the Rain

Shivers running down my spine. Clothes sticking to my skin, having to perform an acrobatic routine just to peel them off.

Changing into my warmest sweater and drinking coffee with Five by the window.

If we crack it open, it gets a little bit louder, and we can smell the rain as it comes down.

Petrichor, I would have called it on the moon. Home is what I call it now.

We listen to the gentle sound of the rain tapping against the glass.

Watch it slide down in little droplets that evaporate before they can finish their journey.

I know it’s different for him. It still rains after everyone is gone.

But I can tell the rain comforts him too. He calms down a bit. For once.

It must be different from inside the house.

Rain is only nice when you know you can go back inside afterwards and drink coffee with your brother.

When you know you’ll be safe if it really starts coming down.

I’m glad he feels safe.

I’m trying to get there, too.  



End file.
